Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,28
weeks, when I could have dragged a cot into this room and remained every hour, ensuring no one dared threaten her. And worst of all, not today.
I hadn’t even believed that a threat could come to her.
There isn't enough time to move. My Myst is going to wrap around the assassin’s mind and crack it like an egg when it reaches him. I will make him suffer fire, ice, and madness. My blade will sink in his guts and twist, so he bleeds out slowly. But it’ll be too late. I don’t have any other power in my possession. I am weak. I am worthless. I am nothing at all. I scream her name, my voice saturated with so much anguish I can't even recognize it.
She can't die. She can't. I don't think of Whitecroft. I don't think of the folk. I don't think about the fact that she's the only thing keeping us safe. I think the entire world would be pointless without her in it. I think that if she takes her last breath, it will be mine, too. My Myst keeps crawling to the assassin. I'm ready to obliterate each and every one of his cells.
But nothing I can do will prevent his blade from taking the one thing I've ever desired from me.
I see a lance and an arrow fly through the room. The guards were quick to attack the murderer, but their weapons will also hit too late.
I didn't think a second could last an eternity, yet here we are. My entire life could have passed in the endless instant it takes for the dagger to descend on Vlari.
Just as it aligns with her breast, Vlari blinks. Blinks. The sky-blue eyes that remained shut so long, eyes I never thought I'd see again at one point, open. The air around us crackles, suddenly charged with an energy strong enough to make mountains quake. The assassin’s arm stills for endless, precious seconds, and Vlari shifts on top of her bed covers. The blade falls, slashing a handful of silver hair, before piercing right through layers of silk and linen. It plunges inside her soft mattress.
The assassin curses, stepping back to dodge the lance. He snatches the wooden hilt midair and twists it in his hand, ready to attack again. By then, I'm on him. My Myst and my sword are both at my disposal now, but he’s mine. He’s not going anywhere. I don’t want it to end fast. This poor excuse for a fae needs to suffer, in the worst of ways. Body, first. Then, I’ll get to his soul. My fist collides with his jaw, and withdraws to hit again, and again, and again. When my hands start to hurt, I keep punching. When his nose and my knuckles bleed, I strike, and strike again. Letting go of the weapon, he blocks the fiftieth punch, hiding his face behind his arms like the coward he is. Fine. That’s just fine. I start kicking instead, screaming, yelling.
He almost killed Vlari. He almost killed me. I saw her die in my mind. I felt my very soul shatter. I kick everything, blind by a lust for blood no unseelie has ever tasted. I need more. More suffering. I’ll take everything he can give me. All his screams.
“Drusk?”
The only thing that could have possibly pulled me out of the haze of violence in my veins is her voice. It’s weak, and cracks on that one single word, but it’s hers all the same. I look up. She’s standing right next to me. Her hand rests on my sleeve, and I’m done.
I’m just done. With everything.
I freeze.
She’s here. She’s here, in person, touching me.
The assassin looks between us, and glances at the door.
I laugh. He thinks he's going out of here in one piece? My Myst is all around us. The only reason I haven't sent him to hell yet is because I want to hit him some more.
I start to send the dark cloud of magic to him, but Vlari shakes her head.
“Don’t. Let me. I need—”
I nod.
Whatever she needs.
Vlari strolls to the coward backing up against the wall. “There’s nowhere to go,” she whispers. “You’re mine now.”
The man freezes, enthralled, ensorcelled by her bright blue eyes. Her small white arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug that could almost look gentle. Then he starts to scream as she sucks the life out of him, a serene smile crawling on her dry lips.
A few inches of