Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive #4) - Lily Archer Page 0,32

as his magic grows.

“Leave her alone!” Leander roars from the cage.

“Don’t push me.” I summon black death into my palms and back away from my father.

“I’m afraid pushing you is my job as a loving parent,” he sneers and matches me step for step.

“I’m leaving, and I’m taking them with me. All of them. Including Cecile and the changeling Taylor. I was wrong to ever join with you. I don’t want your throne. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Pathetic.” Shathinor glowers.

“I will kill you if I have to.” I pool my magic in front of me like a shield and keep the explosive orb in my palm. “But I don’t want to.”

“You will kill for me, my dear heart.” He follows me, his rage growing as his magic spirals faster and faster. “You will do everything I ask. And that includes killing your traitorous mate and his friends, my darling princess.”

“I am not your princess.” My wings unfurl. “I am Leander’s queen.” I throw my deathly orb as a ruckus sends the room into a frenzy.

Shathinor screeches as my magic cuts through his whirlwind and strikes him in the gut. I draw the obsidian blade and brace myself for battle when a blast of ice freezes all the soldiers closest to me, clearing the way at the foot of the stairs. Leander surges forward, his face a mask of rage as he advances on Shathinor. His Phalanx have escaped their cage and engaged the crowd, fighting with a vengeance that doesn’t bode well for Shathinor’s troops.

Pumping my wings, I hover in the air and throw more deathly magic at my father.

Cenet jumps down the stairs, and Gareth rushes him.

“Don’t look in his eyes!” I shout to Gareth.

They fall back into the fray, both of them fighting a vicious sword battle. Brannon takes out an entire row of soldiers with some dark tentacle monster he’s summoned.

“My king.” Valen throws Leander a sword. He catches it, then turns and hurls it into Shathinor.

My father yells as the blade slams into his chest and penetrates his armor. He looks down, his eyes wide.

Leander rushes toward him, but a blast of black magic bursts from my father, knocking Leander onto his back. Shathinor sheds the armor and the sword, black blood barely staining his shirt.

“He’s already dead.” I drop to the steps beside Leander, the obsidian blade in my grip. I can end my father, stop the war, and keep the realms safe.

Something tickles my throat, and I cough. I reach up and feel the phylactery, but it burns my hand, and suddenly, I can’t move.

“There’s no escape from the Spires this time.” Leander summons a spike of ice as Shathinor’s dark magic lifts him off his feet.

“You and your friends were fools to come here.” Shathinor floats higher, the darkness oozing from his pores. “Getting captured was the last mistake you’ll make.”

“Mistake?” Leander climbs the stairs. “We wanted to be captured. You just brought the deadliest fighters in all of Arin into your throne room.” He spares a glance to the melee behind us, the Phalanx a whirling dervish of death and ruin. Shathinor’s soldiers are falling or running, only the undead attacking relentlessly.

Shathinor scowls and sends a rope of black magic to wrap around Leander’s throat. The battle is a cacophony as I try to move, to yell.

“Taylor.” Shathinor’s voice courses through me as if he’s in my head. As if, through the phylactery, he’s somehow part of me. This damn necklace is cursed just like the old one.

I gasp as realization hits me. “Oh, shit. It’s a horcrux!”

Shathinor speaks again. “You will kill your mate. Now.”

“No.” I try to back away, but I find I can’t. I’m moving toward Leander, my sword up and my shield dissipating.

Shathinor laughs in my skull. “You thought I trusted you? The child of that summer realm whore? You were pathetic until I found you. I’ve made you strong, and this is how you repay me?”

“I was always strong.” I fight against the pull, but I’m losing control, Shathinor’s will replacing my own. Chaos reigns at my back, and Leander struggles to free himself from the dark magic that weaves around him like a spider’s wrapping.

“This trinket is my insurance policy. I will always have you in the palm of my hand. You thought I cared about you? That I would ever let you sit on my throne?” He grins. “You are a tool, a vessel. This body can no longer sustain me. But yours? I