Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,26

continued, opening his arms in a gesture that embraced the whole camp. “We shall be what we once were, our glory plain for all to see. I, Juradoc, shall deliver this to you.”

A throaty roar rose from the crowd, sending gooseflesh down Leena’s limbs. Juradoc was a general, not the supreme commander of the Shades. And yet, he was talking as if he were in charge. What did that mean for Faery?

“Do you desire proof?” Juradoc demanded. “Do you wish to see how I have bent the power of this land to serve our cause?”

He pointed a gloved hand Leena’s way. “Witness how the servants of the Flame perform my bidding. Feel its mighty power.”

Then the general leaned forward a little, as if imparting a secret. “See how I consume and bend its magic to my own ends.”

9

Juradoc’s words chilled Leena. Her earlier guess had been right. This was a demonstration of how the Shades could devour fae power, undoubtedly preparing for an assault on the Great Temple and the Flame.

By the time she could draw breath again, fear had rendered her numb. She could not let Juradoc succeed, but the general would never allow her to run. He had too much to prove.

Her gaze went to Fionn, but he had not moved. She looked at Morran, knowing this might be her only chance to heal him. But how to raise the Flame’s power without losing it to Juradoc’s hunger? This would be a battle of wills more brutal than the last.

In her mind’s eye, every Shade was a carrion crow willing to devour her alive. All it would take was one wrong move, and she would be ash and bones.

Panting with fear, Leena stepped into the center of carefully cleared space. She’d performed this dance a thousand times before, and long practice saved her. She immediately cast her consciousness to the circle’s edge, claiming it as her own. Next came a series of mental wards, simple but enough to hold Juradoc off for a while.

She whispered a prayer to summon the Flame, drawing it around her like a cloak. She felt its heat, but the sensation was not painful. Another might have said it was like the gentle pressure of rain or the caress of hot wind. Neither was completely accurate in Leena’s mind. There were no words for its touch.

It gave her the courage to move her feet and to lean into their rhythm. Once her limbs had found the pulse, she wove the dance, summoning the beat and spinning it the way an acrobat balances on a ball. The Flame moved with her, flowing into the night like the mane of a wild mare.

The power of the Flame grew and grew, building in her like a shout. Surely, she would suffocate unless she gave it voice. Yes, some claimed to hear the Flame speak, but they were in the safety of the temple, not encircled by enemies. This was not the place for surrender, for absolute trust. Leena held the power with an iron hand, balancing its wildness with protective caution.

Her magic reached out to Morran, connecting with him almost without effort. He was a fire fae like her, and their shared nature made it simple. From there, the healing was natural. It flowed with the beat of the dance, with her heart and bones and her quickening blood. She moved to that song, to the wordless lyrics of the Flame, and Morran’s shattered power came with her.

This time, she glimpsed more of his mind, of the raw wound that gaped like a severed limb. Distress. Fury. Dread. Despair.

She closed her inner eye to the flood of images that streamed from his mind through hers. Healing was more intimate than any kiss, taking her deep into another’s soul. It was her job to unlock memories, to restore them—not to indulge her curiosity. The tiny fractures in his mind began to close and seal over.

Like a battering ram, Juradoc crashed through the wards and was there, grabbing for the power she’d extended to Morran. Leena wrestled with him, aware that if she unclenched her mental fist, he would drain her to a husk.

She succeeded—not easily, but well enough to take care of Morran at the same time. Searing pain shot through her head, numbing her grip on the Flame’s power. She barely kept it from slipping away, but she held on, lashing out with her own mental fire.

Her mistake was getting distracted. Juradoc nearly slipped inside her guard,