Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,63
what power does to people. They make them spill their own blood, their own kin.”
Thane thought of his father, who had killed his own brother, who had been willing to sacrifice his own son. All for more of Unseelie’s power.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Thane,” she said, heaving up her sword. “I would have let you live. We were going to have you sit on that damn throne and rule over these grasslands.”
Thane watched her as she stepped to the side, clearly eyeing up her best approach. “Only because you thought you could control me, like a puppet on a string.”
She shrugged. “You’re no use to us if you won’t do what we need.”
“And destroying Tairngire is what you need, is it?” Thane barked out a laugh. “You’re more delusional than I thought you were.”
“It’s what we need to avenge my sister’s death.” Iona’s eyes flashed as she swung her sword to the right. Thane dodged the blow easily.
“Killing innocent low fae does not avenge my mother’s death,” Thane said through gritted teeth. “Nothing can. Not even the death of Aengus. She’s gone, Aunt Iona. And she isn’t coming back. Raining down destruction does nothing but make this world even worse than it already is.”
Iona leapt to the side, slicing her sword toward Thane’s gut. He spun, heart stuck in his throat, throwing out his own blade to block her blow. The steel clanged hard together, reverberating through his body. Shaking his head, he took a step back, his joints aching from the sudden contact. Iona was stronger than she looked.
“You don’t get it, do you, Thane?” Iona asked, stalking around him in a slow circle. “This world is already doomed. The only way we can win is by gaining as much power as we can.”
“I don’t believe the truth in that.”
“Don’t you?” She arched a brow. “If you don’t want to gain power, why are you here? Why not just give up your throne to Aengus? Don’t pretend like you didn’t want to come here and rip him out of that castle. I remember the words you spoke in Gorias. You wanted revenge, same as the rest of us.”
She was right. Thane had wanted revenge, but the wound had been fresh in his heart. When he’d first heard the news about his mother, he’d wanted nothing else but to claw Aengus’s eyes out and slice the head clean off his body. But once the truth had settled into his bones, his vicious anger had numbed to a dull pain.
All of this, every single part of it, had been a terrible, brutal mistake.
And there was nothing he could do to unwind time and take it all back.
“I don’t care what I said. I will not allow you to destroy my city,” he said, twisting his hands around the hilt of his sword. “If you wish to fight me for it, then so be it, Aunt Iona. But I will never agree to this. These are my people, not the sea fae. And I will protect them with my life if I must.”
“That’s fine with me, dear nephew,” she said with a wicked smile. “The Seat of Power will be mine to claim.”
Iona whirled toward him, her sword raised. Thane threw up his own blade, knocking hers to the side. This time, she was the one who stumbled back, the one whose head rang from the intensity of the blow.
He strode toward her while she recovered, throwing all his weight behind the next blow. She barely got her sword up in time. His blade danced against hers, the steel edge driving up her forearm. Flesh sliced clean off, leaving behind nothing more than blood and bone.
Iona screamed. Even through her pain, she lifted her sword and charged. Thane ducked to the side, whipping his sword around behind her. He slashed it at her legs, making contact with the back of her knees. The steel scraped through her legs.
Iona cried out, falling face first into the dirt. Blood painted her skin as she scrabbled back away from him. Horror and pain churned across her pale face. Thane’s heart clenched as he stared down at her. Her hands fisted around the dirt, clinging on while the blood burbled from her wounds.
Her chest heaved. “I hope you never forget this moment for the rest of your miserable life.”
His heart twisted as a terrible sadness settled over him. “Trust me, I do not think I ever will.”