Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,118

mask, but his eyes hold rage.

As quickly as she arrived, the goddess departs my body just as swiftly, leaving me feeling drained and dizzy. Lightheaded, I stumble, but Vaeril mercifully catches me, wrapping his arm around me. My connection to the goddess feels completely empty, depleted, and I know she must have used everything she had just then. She saved my life.

Without a word, everyone falls back into formation, and we face the large ballroom doors and the priests blocking them.

“Arrest them,” the king orders, a smugness to his tone that shows he’s used to being obeyed without question. Except the guards around us don’t move. “Stop them,” he orders again, his voice dark with anger now, but still, no one moves.

We come to a stop just in front of the doors where the priests wait, and I feel their gazes on me, then one by one, they hurry away, the memory of what happened to Rodrick fresh in their minds. A wave of magic washes over me, and the doors blast open with a gesture of Grayson’s hands. Without needing to be told, those at the front of our group start to move, and we hurry through the castle, not running, but our steps are swift.

Shouting sounds behind us. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the body of a guard fly into the hallway and smash into the wall. Rhydian stumbles out after him, his entire body quaking.

“No,” Jacob whispers beside me, his eyes wide, and I realise he just witnessed the same thing I did. Somehow, Rhydian just threw that guard, but that should be impossible, he’s human. He shouldn’t be that strong.

Rhydian falls to the ground and lets out a bloodcurdling howl, his back bending in ways that shouldn’t be possible. The hair on my arms stand on end, and my mark glows dimly in warning, burning as it tells me one thing—go.

Jacob has the same instinct, his eyes round with panic. “Run!”

We don’t need to be told twice. Picking up my skirts, I run like my life depends on it. We hurtle through the castle hallways, the magicians leading us, their protective barrier still in place, but I can see the strain it’s taking on them. The elves could run faster and leave us, but they don’t, they stay in formation alongside us the entire time. Exhaustion fills me, every cell in my body crying out to stop, to rest, but then that scream sounds again, and I know whatever strangeness Rhydian had been battling within his body won. Rhydian lost.

Rounding a corner, we reach the entrance hall, and I want to cry with relief when I see that our carriages and horses are waiting for us. Grayson, Tor, and Eldrin break off and start organising each group into travelling parties, making sure everyone is here as the magicians start mounting horses. We are going to need to leave here quickly. I begin to hurry towards the stone steps leading to the carriages when a wave of dark, sticky power rolls over me, dragging me down to the ground with a cry.

“Clarissa!” Jacob calls out, turning to help me, but I wave him away, Vaeril and Naril already at my side.

“Go, get in the carriage.” Gesturing with my hands, I order Jacob to go, needing to make sure he gets out of here. He pauses, uncertainty shining in his eyes, but something over my shoulder seems to change his mind, and he nods and moves towards the exit and the waiting carriages. Turning to Naril, I grab his arm, gripping it tightly to ensure he’s paying attention. “Make sure everyone is safe, I’ll be right there.” Naril stares at me, his usual grin gone as his eyes scan my face, but he slowly nods his head, pushes to his feet, and hurries to the carriages.

Now that we’re alone, Vaeril grabs my face and pulls it around so I meet his gaze. “It’s the prince, isn’t it?” Nodding, I try to fight off the heavy sensation. It feels like a twisted version of magic, except it feels wrong. I wait for my gift to start fighting it, to free me from its inky grip, but as I extend my awareness, I find the source of the strange magic isn’t what’s stopping me. My gift works by breaking the spell itself, and whatever this is that is clinging to my skin is a by-product of the original spell. Very clever.

Realising I can’t move and feeling my fear through