Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,98

under my grip, I reached for the indefinable energy of the gray. Mist swirled, thickened, briefly blocking my vision of the gate. The tempo of my heart increased, and an odd sort of weariness began to descend. I suddenly realized why using the gray when not wholly within it was so dangerous. It was calling on my strength—my connection with the earth—to interact with this world.

But to permanently close these gates, I had to keep a presence in both worlds, simply because I had no idea how to find individual gates within the gray. Not without physically standing in front of them, as past kings always had when it came to the main gate.

When the mist cleared, the gate was closed. Tendrils of gray clung to its rim and the deeply etched carvings glowed faintly, though whether that was a result of the gray or something else I couldn’t say. The demons were screaming in terror, throwing themselves at the door, beating and tearing at it with fists and claws in an attempt to force it open.

I didn’t linger to see if they succeeded but moved on to the other gates, repeating the process and closing them down one by one. By the time the fourth gate had been locked, sweat bathed my body, my limbs were shaking, and my heart beat so fast it felt like one long beat of pain.

But the message to my brother wasn’t complete. There was one more thing I had to do.

Ignoring the burning in my lungs and the growing ache in my brain, I unleashed Nex. Her power—my power—coursed through Elysian, pulsing down the blade’s steel into the earth; from there, it raced in an ever-widening arc, gathering the earth’s heat as it arrowed toward the heavy pulse of darkness. This time, it didn’t just work its way through cracks in the ground; it exploded. It was a deadly force of heat and fire that swept the stain of Darkside from a huge swath of the area around the palace, leaving only those in the air free.

I didn’t attack them. I couldn’t.

Consciousness was fading. Life was fading.

Somehow, I pried my fingers from the blades and fell back, staring up at the sky through bloody lashes, seeing nothing, hearing nothing beyond the strained pounding of my own heart.

The earth quivered a warning of approaching steps, then a figure appeared in my sightline.

Ricker.

He knelt beside me, his concern radiating from his body as he half reached out and then stopped. “Gwen? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” It was little more than a hoarse whisper, but in all honesty, that was more than I’d expected.

“Well, that was pretty fucking impressive. The way you dealt with Darkside—”

“It was more than just Darkside,” I croaked. “I shut the fucking gates. Or, at least, the four closest to London.”

He stared at me, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief. “Seriously?”

I half laughed, but it ended up coming out more a gargled groan, as pain exploded through me. Damn it, everything hurt.

“I’m Elysian’s wielder, Ricker, and she was designed to close gates. So yes, I’m serious.”

He sucked in a breath and released it slowly. The awe didn’t leave his expression, but the concern had deepened. “Do you need anything?”

“My knife.”

I felt rather than saw his frown. “Which knife? You’ve two.”

“Both.”

No one but me would be able to remove Elysian from her sheath of asphalt, but the knives were another matter. While family legend might state only the firstborn female of each generation could use them, given how many other legends had proven untrue of late, I wasn’t about to risk a stranger stealing them. The Blackbirds were unlikely to do so, but there were plenty of other people in the palace who might.

Distrust of my fellow witches had definitely sharpened abruptly since my brother’s betrayal.

Footsteps vibrated through the ground as one of the Blackbirds gathered Nex. Ricker drew Vita from my belt and then placed both knives into my waiting hand. I closed my fingers around them, but it was Vita’s blade I pressed flat against my chest. Her steel grew heated, and her golden glow infused the night’s lingering shadows. This time, she wasn’t drawing on my strength but rather connecting with the De Montfort healing ability that had lain dormant within me for so long, once again allowing me to do what no other De Montfort had—heal myself. Up to a point, anyway. She eased the dangerous weakness and slowed my unnaturally high heart rate,