Spring (Evermore Academy #2) - Audrey Grey Page 0,63
two people from completely different races, born of promise and forged by blood, sweat, tears, and the singular need not to die.
Which is pretty freaking motivating right now.
For the first time since I entered the academy, I understand the deep pride some Guardians take in protecting their Fae Keepers.
Without a word, we break into a sprint. Just like we’ve been taught, Mack and I position ourselves on the outside of the group, a few meters ahead. Technically, Valerian and Asher could run ten times faster than our breakneck pace, but they keep time with us.
In a real situation, the most powerful Evermore like Valerian and Asher could create a portal to whisk us away, but most Evermore aren’t that powerful.
Especially when it comes to portals strong enough to transport more than one person.
The minutes drag by, the walls a blur of shadows and glowing symbols. Our footfalls are soft, the quiet broken only by the rush of our breathing and the occasional splash of a puddle.
All too soon, the final tunnel comes into view. A latticework of symbols lights up the other side. Eternal flames of light green magic gutter from giant torches placed on either end.
A single ladder crawls up to the streets above.
As we near the torches, Mack and I go over the map.
She taps a finger over a spot on the GPS screen. “We’re here—I think. It”—she zooms in—“looks like the tunnel will come up right at the feet of Abe himself.”
My brain, fuzzy from adrenaline and fear, conjures an image of a giant statue.
“It was easier to erect portals near places where hundreds of humans passed through,” Asher says. “The residual energy amplifies the power of the portal.”
A portal large enough to funnel thousands of fleeing Fae souls would have to be massive, and would require a butt-load of magic. I’m almost disappointed it’s no longer active. That would have been an impressive sight.
“Makes sense,” I say as I take hold of the first bar on the ladder.
As Shadow Guardian for the highest ranking Evermore in the group, it’s my job to go first. I’m not exactly thrilled about it, but at least if anything’s waiting on the other side, it will be me the darklings shred to bits, not Mack.
Valerian’s gaze snaps to my hand on the ladder. In a flash, his primal urge to protect me takes over and he’s rushing toward me.
I bristle, fully prepared to argue. I can do this. I have to do this to prove I deserve to be a Shadow guardian.
“Summer—”
“Stop,” I order, lifting an eyebrow in challenge as I glare over my shoulder at him. “I can handle it.”
He halts, jaw clenched and nostrils flared. Asher stiffens, looking from Valerian to me.
This is what I’ve been worried about all along. The bond’s raw power forcing him to resist my role as his Guardian, which requires serious risk.
“Please,” I add.
His snarl echoes through the tunnels, but he retreats a step. “If anything happens to you . . . I’ll destroy this entire Shimmer-forsaken city. Do you understand?”
I swallow. Nod.
“Good.” He draws a shortsword, his face transforming to the Valerian that terrifies me—the one I have absolutely no doubt would murder every person here, darkling, Fae, and mortal, if I was hurt. “After you, Princess.”
“Such a gentleman,” I mutter as I clamber up the rungs. A large manhole cover awaits. I hold my breath as I twist, praying the iron in the door has repelled the darklings from this spot.
Panic tears through me as I scramble over the side and onto a . . . a . . . where the frick am I?
The others pour through the hole, but I’m too busy looking around to say much. The enormous columns are just like I remember from the picture. But where I remember seeing the enormous statue of Abraham Lincoln now sits a statue of—
“Is that Maub, the Spring Court Queen?” Mack whispers.
“The one and only,” Asher says as we regroup into a defensive circle, Mack and I once again in the front.
Tip of the spear, Summer, I think, repeating Mr. Willis’s words from school. You’re the mother-freaking tip of the spear.
A wide set of stairs leads down into a park, where a swarm of darklings mill around the lawn. Some seem dazed, stumbling and careening, their bones so deformed they can barely walk. Others zip around on all fours so fast they blur into a churning mass of bones and hisses.