I place my hands on his legs, I instantly feel the spell there and it pulls me in, sucking at my energy as I fight against it. The spell is strong, it’s draining my energy at an alarming rate, and I’m already exhausted from earlier. I shift my weight, trying to pull away slightly, but my hands are stuck, glued to the spot, the magic fixing me in place as it eats away at my strength piece by piece.
My heart sinks, this was a trap. The queen attacked Hawthorn knowing he would come to me. She made sure to use a spell that wouldn’t kill him, only maim him, making sure he would arrive here, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist trying to break the spell. Somehow, she’s getting stronger. This spell is unlike anything I’ve felt before, parasitic in nature. I can’t even speak to tell the others I’m trapped, that I made a mistake, so I push my feelings down the bond, needing them to know how I feel about them as my vision starts to dim.
Warmth surrounds me, and until that moment, I hadn’t realised how cold I was. I’m unable to move my head to see where the heat is coming from, but that place in my chest where my bonds sit is warm. Sound returns to me next, and I can hear whispers, male voices.
“Fight that bitch, Clarissa. You’re stronger than her.” Tor. That’s Tor’s deep voice on my left. He’s pressed up against me, his beard tickling my chin.
“Alina,” a lighter, slightly accented voice calls on my right. Vaeril. “Push her back, feel our connection,” he instructs, stroking the length of my arm.
Someone shifts at my back, and I realise there’s someone else behind me. An unmistakable male chest is pressed against my back, his arms wrapped around my waist. “Don’t you dare leave me,” he whispers harshly, his hold tightening as if he could pull me away. Eldrin.
I don’t think he meant for the others to hear it, but of course they did, their bodies stiffening against mine.
I don’t know what this means, but it gives me the strength I need. I know I’m weakened without Grayson, but I can feel him sending his strength down the bond, offering me everything he can despite the distance between us. Focusing on the skin beneath my hands, I push every ounce of will I have into the magic that’s sucking my strength. No, I tell it. I will not let you break me. I feel the magic stutter under my hands before doubling its efforts. A pain-filled groan fills the air, and it takes a few seconds for me to realise it’s me making the noise. There are whispers in my ears again, but I’m too busy focusing on my magic. I’ve backed it into a corner now, I just need to find a hole so I can break it apart. This is always the most painful part, but I don’t mind the pain, because that means I’ve won. Pushing with every last bit of strength I have, I feel the magic fracture beneath me.
I open my eyes and meet the smiling gaze of Speaker Hawthorn before I fall back into the arms of my mates. Cursing, they gently help lower me to the ground, and I see a concerned Revna looking down at me with Vida at her side, speaking to her in a low voice. Whatever the religious adviser is saying, she seems to be trying to reassure my aunt, and from the slow nod of her head, it’s working.
“Take them both to the healer’s tent,” Revna calls out, nodding to several tribesmen, who run off presumably towards the healer’s tent. Turning to face the gathered tribespeople, she makes sure everyone’s attention is on her. “The elves are to be treated as guests, am I understood?” Once the air is filled with ‘Yes, Chiefs,’ she dismisses them, waiting with us as four tribesmen return with two stretchers.
Kneeling next to Speaker Hawthorn, and under Fawne’s watchful eye, they carefully transfer him onto the stretcher. When they turn to me, I raise my eyebrows and hold up my hands in a ‘halt’ motion. “Oh no, I’ll walk.”
“Clarissa—” my aunt begins, looking stern, but I just shake my head and try to prove I’m fine by pushing away from the guys and getting to my feet.
“Look, I’m fine.” Of course as soon as I say this, my legs give way and I fall back against