Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,103

different entity entirely.

The tendrils that ran along her arms and stretched out across the sky—blackening it, rousing the fear in her enemies—was now like another limb to her. The horse between her thighs trembled, its own emotions fueling her power as she surged forward.

Arrows fell upon them in rapid succession, forcing her to swerve or pick up the speed again and again. Lazarus raced alongside her, the scent of salt and desperation was like kindling to her flame. She shuddered in delight at the dread that stemmed from up ahead, rising in waves, crashing down over her senses—as it completely and utterly rode her.

Adrenaline in its purest form flooded her system, and in that moment, Quinn never felt so alive. So very powerful. She and Lazarus ate up the distance between them and their enemies, and in a clash of metal and booming thunder, they struck. The skies, now blacker than night, made it difficult for them to see, even though they carried torches. That orange flame only did so much when Quinn swung clean through the arm holding it. The flame hit the ground, sparking fire as the rider let out a scream in anguish. Quinn was already coming upon her next victim as she slashed and blocked the oncoming attacks. Lost in the haze of battle and blood lust, Quinn found that part of herself she was always missing.

And she embraced it.

“Quinn!” The roar from Lazarus shook her, and she turned her cheek to stare at him just as an arrow grazed the side of her face. A single line of blood slipped down over her chin. The sting of the tip told her she’d been cut, but not killed. Not as she would have been, had he said nothing. She needed to be more careful.

As soon as it occurred to her, two riders rounded on her, meeting her head on. They split, attempting to run down either side of her—boxing her in the middle. She curled her hand around her sword, readying her resolve, unable to stop it from happening, but when they passed her, it wasn’t her they attacked.

It was the horse.

Wicked blades sliced down its sides, sending the creature fumbling forward. It jerked so violently Quinn didn’t have a chance of holding on as it threw her. Air kissed her skin as she flew from its back and in the moment before she landed, she saw the world in slow motion as the fighting raged.

Lazarus fought with such savageness that she had a feeling—were he alone—he would be the only one to make it out alive. As it was, Draeven and Vaughn had joined the fray and were both facing off against multiple men in blue and white. They were far more skilled than their attackers, but because of the enemy’s sheer numbers, they were going to be in real trouble soon. Especially Dominicus who was contending with seven riders on his own, but had Lorraine huddled into him and holding on for dear life—though her expression was not one of terror.

She saw all this in the blink of an eye before her body hit the ground at a bone-rattling intensity. She rolled, trying to lessen the momentum, but the stabbing pain below her abdomen was stifling. The spot that had plagued her for the last week or so, ever since they left Cisea, was burning. Quinn grit her teeth against the pain and spat the dirt from her mouth. Ignoring the spittle tinged with blood, Quinn rose back to her feet.

Horses surrounded her instantly, their riders seeking her out, assuming that because she had fallen, she was weak.

“Neiss!” she called out. Lightning slashed across the sky as her serpent answered.

The creature slid from her skin as the riders neared. Its mauve-colored scales near black under the moonless and sunless sky she’d created.

“What is that?” She heard one of them call out, his voice tinted in panic.

“I think it’s—”

Neiss’ body expanded, the width of his length forming to half her height. Realization seemed to echo through their ranks. They knew. “Basilisk!” they shouted, scurrying back as they tried to run, to escape the creature. It was too late.

Neither the horses nor the riders stood a chance when Quinn whispered her command, “Kill them.”

“With pleasure,” the serpent hissed as it took to the fight. Arrows rained down upon him, cracking and shattering into splinters on impact. Swords clashed uselessly against his near impenetrable skin. It was only after two of the riders died from simply being